


First Snowfall (Remix)

by Emiline



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Admiration, Beginnings, Friendship, Gen, Hecate hasn't quite figured out what she feels, Hope, Pre-Hackle, Remix, Snow, Social Anxiety, complicated feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-31 08:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21129401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emiline/pseuds/Emiline
Summary: It wasn't until the first snowfall, that first year, that Hecate began to feel at home at Cackle's.





	First Snowfall (Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmic_llin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/gifts).
  * Inspired by [First Snowfall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14185818) by [cosmic_llin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/pseuds/cosmic_llin). 

> Do go and read cosmic_llin's wonderful First Snowfall before you read this - it is a delight! Her fic is from Ada's perspective and this remix is from Hecate's, and all the lines of dialogue in this remix come directly from cosmic_llin's fic. You will also notice distinct similarities between the last line there and here.

That year, the weather was as unpredictable as the students.

It didn’t snow until January, when a few days into the term, the sky grew grey and cloudy and a few soft, wet flakes began to fall. The girls, still full of sweets and excitement and the sense of the apparently wanton freedom their parents allowed them over the holidays shrieked with delight and stampeded outside, yelling and spinning and running into each other.

Fifteen minutes and several bumps, bruises and scrapes later, the students were back in the classrooms, fidgety and inattentive but ostensibly working on calming potion.

Overly excited students aside, Hecate had always liked the snow—a transformation as neat and simple and efficient as the best of potions, filing the bare winter days with fresh wonder. The beauty of the snow was often far too fleeting, but while it lasted…

The snow was still falling as the day drew to a close.

* * *

Hecate, still not settled in to the new term, awoke early the next day, anxious and restless. Recognizing that there was no hope of falling back asleep, she dressed and transferred to the large picture window at the end of the corridor.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, and the snow that blanketed the grounds was still wrapped in shadows. This early morning time had always felt special to Hecate, a secret time of stillness and quiet as the day began, a gift of comfortable solitude that few sought out. She leaned forward and touched a finger to the cold, frosted pane; felt some of the tension she was carrying fall away.

She permitted herself to draw the finger down the glass, before pulling her hand away and watching the line fog over.

The castle was so peaceful, in the early hours. The promise of the new day, the hope not yet dashed that today might be a day that the girls would listen, learn, and not blown up the potions lab or cause some other sort of disaster.

Miss Cackle always said that the girls would learn as much from their mistakes as they would from the lessons at hand, which Hecate took leave to doubt. A few of them certainly did, but there were those for whom any number of disasters and her own strictest exhortations apparently failed to make an impression. She’d been forced to enact even stricter protection spells on the cauldrons the second years used.

But that was part of what drew people to Miss Cackle - she was forgiving and kind to a fault, and even Hecate would admit that as long as the kindness did not lead to dangerous folly there were far worse faults. And there was something in the way Miss Cackle assumed the best that made everything a little brighter.

Hecate was startled out of her musings by the sound of steps in the corridor. She turned and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Miss Cackle. For one wild moment, even as she knew the impossibility of it, she wondered if she had somehow managed summon her with the strength of her thoughts.

Miss Cackle smiled then, that brilliant, all encompassing smile of hers that seemed to convey that she was so genuinely delighted to see you, that you were the person she wanted to see most in the world, at that moment, and Hecate relaxed a fraction.  
Miss Cackle moved to the window and looked out over the grounds.

“I love the snow,” she said. 

Hecate shifted to allow her more space. “It’s beautiful,” Hecate agreed, scarcely daring to believe the evidence of her eyes, that Miss Cackle had seen her and chosen to share the window with her. Miss Cackle might have made some kind of greeting or even just nodded and gone on elsewhere, if she had so chosen, but no, she had chosen this, chosen this moment with Hecate who had scarce spoken privately with her more than half a dozen times.

They stood in companionable silence, watching as the early morning light danced across the snow, glinting and sparkling and Hecate had the heady, absurd thought that if she could see her heart at this moment, that it would look like this.

After a little while, she noticed a small black shaped meandering across the grounds.

“Oh,” Hecate breathed.

Miss Cackle leaned forward and peered down. “I think that’s young Miss Cobweb’s cat, Stardust,” she said.

Hecate wondered if this could be a joke, although it didn’t sound like one.

“You can recognized all the girls’ cats on sight?” she asked in astonishment.

“Most of them,” Miss Cackle confirmed.

“That’s…” Hecate’s brain failed her, “impressive,” she finished. Was this something she was expected to be able to do too?

“Thank you. I’ve known them since they were kittens, you see. I take care of the new familiars each year until their witches choose them.”

Whole new vistas into Miss Cackle’s character were opening up before Hecate.

“It must feel strange to part with them after raising them for weeks,” Hecate offered.

“A bit. It’s not so bad.”

Was there a hint of regret in her tone? Before Hecate could decide Miss Cackle continued “I know I’ll see them around the school for another few years. I’ve spotted your familiar about the place once or twice - she’s a majestic creature.”

“She’s settling in well here,” Hecate confirmed. “She loves the grounds.”

“And what about you?” Miss Cackle asked. “How are you settling in?”

Hecate stiffened. She’d let her guard down, and look what had happened. However much she might like Miss Cackle, she was still the headmistress’ daughter and she hardly dared admit the truth. 

“Oh, very well, thank you,” she replied, aiming for nonchalance.

Miss Cackle looked at her searchingly. “Really?”  
Hecate drummed her fingers on her side. It wasn’t a good idea to tell Miss Cackle the truth, she was certain of that, but perhaps Miss Cackle would understand. Miss Cackle, for some unfathomable reason (_perhaps she does like you,_ a small hopeful corner of Hecate’s brain offered) genuinely wanted to know. But it wouldn’t do to blubber all over Miss Cackle about her problems. That would be highly unprofessional, and however much she wanted to be friends they weren’t that yet either. 

“I…It’s not that I’m not settling in,” she hedged. “There’s just a lot to get used to.” Which was true. There was. She would get used to it, she had to. She would, even if right now she did feel like the worst teacher.

“My first term as a teacher was a little overwhelming,” Miss Cackle said, as though she could read Hecate’s thoughts. “I often felt as though I’d bitten off more than I could chew.”

“Really?” 

“Of course. I imagine most people feel that way at first,” Miss Cackle said matter-of-factly.

“I-“ Hecate’s voice cracked. “I thought it was just me,” she admitted in a small voice, feeling a strange mix of relief and mortification wash over her.

“Why don’t you come to my classroom after lessons today and we can do our marking together?” Miss Cackle offered.

Hecate felt her world tilt for a dizzying moment. Here it was the invitation she’d longed for (not that she’d pictured this exact invitation precisely), the invitation to spend more time with Miss Cackle, the invitation that suggested that Miss Cackle might seek out her company, the invitation she’d wished desperately for but had not dared to even hint at, for fear of imposing somehow. And here it was, freely being offered to her.

“I’d like that,” Hecate replied, nodding, try not to nod overly enthusiastically.

Just then, the bell rang to wake the girls.

“I’d better go,” she added, all but fleeing down the hallway and then transferring, as soon as she was out of sight, to her office. She collapsed into a chair.

* * *

By the time afternoon came, Hecate was exhausted and on edge and half-convinced that Miss Cackle hadn’t meant it in the slightest. When the last of the students had filed out, Hecate made a beeline for Miss Cackle’s office, afraid that if she waited a second longer she’d talk herself out of going. _Breathe_, she reminded herself, _in and out. In and out_. The classroom door was open, and she could see Miss Cackle, her head bent over a pile of marking, and Hecate’s courage failed. _I should go_ she thought wildly.

Then Miss Cackle lifted her head, her eyes caught Hecate’s, and she smiled. 

“Have a seat,” Miss Cackle said with every appearance of cheerful welcome, gesturing at her desk.

Hecate pulled up a chair and perched on the edge of it, placing her papers down in the space Miss Cackle cleared for her. For a while the only noises were the rustling of papers, the scratching of their quills, and the thumping of Hecate’s heart in her ears. But after a little bit, Hecate found she could breathe normally again, and she settled a little farther back into the chair to continue her marking.

The bell rang for dinner and Miss Cackle gathered her marking which had spread across half the table, into something resembling a single pile. She stretched, and Hecate, caught by a feeling she couldn’t quite identify, swallowed, her throat dry.

“Are you coming?” Miss Cackle asked, clearly intending to leave her work for later. “It’s jam sponge for pudding,” she added.

Hecate glanced her own marking, only half done. Perhaps she ought to finish it first, before she ate. She could always get a bit of toast and tea later.

Miss Cackle smiled at her, and Hecate felt that glow that came of being the focus of her attention. “There’ll always be more work to do around here,” Miss Cackle said. “But jam sponge is only once a week.”

Then again, maybe the marking could wait.

“All right,” Hecate acquiesced, smiling back at Miss Cackle. Maybe she could trust this, trust in this, despite her worries. Maybe Miss Cackle, incredibly and wonderfully, wanted this as much as she did.

And so Hecate left her marking, and together they went in to dinner. 


End file.
